Thoracic Animus (14)

   
   "Thoracic Animus (14)"
   
   Harry was writing in blue to communicate, within the mind of a snoozing Mutt, for the Bigfoot/Hairy Man knew that the Blood is the Life, a pattern of existence and outcome; plus, that Mutt's blood was negative, carrying a bit of immortal Ichor, so Esau's great, great, great, great, grandson probed Mutt's mind, and Mutt thought himself an asshole, not knowing people targeted him for a reason.
   Jung this and that, but the onion does peel, and Mutt needed to be warned to watch his favorite shows, read his favorite books--and to hell with the classics and monkeys shaking his allegorical cage.
   They wanted Mutt to think himself bad, hang a rope and dangle, do the dirt nap groove, or burn him to ash, but then Mark Twain always comes along and makes friends with Tesla, O-; next, Picard takes Twain on the ENTERPRISE, and Mark is like:  "Boy--this is a starship, ain't it?"  Keen talk from a former Riverboat Captain, and like Emily Dickinson--always in white.  Who says America doesn't have great writers?  

Thoracic Animus (13)

   
   "Thoracic Animus (13)"

   Harry approached the campfire, it still flickering with a vibrant orange flame, and glared at Mutt, his Uncle, and Tanya snoozing; plus, noticed the depressed dog Buckwheat, him having restless leg syndrome, shaking his hind paws in doggy slumber, as if possibly chasing an annoying rabbit that brought him no colorful eggs on Easter.
   Harry wanted to hang out with the humans, especially ask for a can of Beenie Weenies, always finding them out in the woods, noticing they were packed full of protein and fiber; moreover, containing the anti-inflammatory properties of turmeric, but with all the fiber, he pondered that a scientist may steal his scat and attempt to unearth what God has concealed--that humans are a mixed breed of many species, and like Lord of the Rings, we are living in a weird and wild world, which would be all too much for the quintessential business person to take, for careerism trumps a sacred tribe of celestial mutts.
   Oh well, Harry pondered if he should wake them with a howl, but that might cause cardiac disturbance, a sort of thoracic animus, which is why the future hides from the face of a self-seeking man.  

Robert Palmer - Simply Irresistible (Live in NYC - 1997)

Hell kicked me out for selling ice cream

   
   "Hell kicked me out for selling ice cream"
   
   "Got to hell, King."  That's what my 9th grade teacher told me; however, I was not to be scorched iniquitously, responding with my cousin's comeback--Winston Wood's words:  "I already went there, but they kicked me out for selling ice cream."
   Christ knows this well.  He lit it up.  He is:  ANGEL OF GREAT COUNSEL.  Look @ Pontius Pilate's physical description of Christ, and I believe it hangs in the National Library of Congress, saying, kinda/sorta:  "Chestnut hair, and blazing eyes."  Who are we to resist evil, when Christ mentioned not to?  And His Mother, our Mother, saying:  "Do as My Son says."  But they fear the Mother, for they have an Oedipus Complex, though we will pray for them to watch Notre Dame football with Touchdown Jesus.
   Weird is white.  Don't be afraid of a rainbow merging into the unification of salvation.  Raise your vibrations to a frequency divine--and maybe the government will thieve away your instruments as they did with Tesla.  We'll never know it all, but plenty have the fundamentals.  
   Just love, walk on the grass and feel Mother Earth, but be cautious of planted parasites if you're barefoot.  Get sandals, like Jesus, or as I call them:  "Air Messiah."  No offense to Michael Jordan's 1980's celebrity, but God has His Own Celebrities, and forty days paint a beard on a pretty face.  The Son is the Mother, and the Father--a synergy of elegantly AWESOME.  

Thoracic Animus (12)

   
   "Thoracic Animus (12)"
   
   The inter-dimensional, circular-shaped craft landed, and Harry, him naming himself such, after having watched Harry and the Hendersons on the World Wide Web, departed from his alien vehicle, stepping onto the Eastern Dakota Earth with his big feet, and shouted, it meaning:  "Happy Easter!!!"
   He didn't understand why nobody was reading the Bible anymore.  Especially about Jacob and Esau, for Esau is the Hairy Man, while Jacob had smooth skin.  And while Harry liked both brothers, he did like manscaping guys, such as Robert Palmer, Arthur Herbert Fonzarelli, and Jack Kerouac in his camel-haired coat.  These guys were sharp-dressed men.
   But Harry wasn't depressed, loving himself, and hoping a bionic Steve Austin was not waiting for him in the woods.  But his on-board computer said only Mutt, his Uncle, and Tanya were nearby; thus, knowing they were semi-benevolent types, just garden-variety hicks more or less, he decided to make contact, though knew he'd have to teleport away quickly if a crossbow bolt came in his direction, not wanting to be like Saint Joan of Arc and get hit by such a violent weapon that could bring down a Grizzly.  

You know what Ol' Jack Burton always says...

Thoracic Animus (11)

   
   "Thoracic Animus (11)"
  
   Tanya followed Mutt back to his campfire, where his Uncle was lubricating the crossbows--him still in heavy anticipation concerning bagging a Squatch.  Mutt introduced his Uncle to Tanya, and the threesome sat, making coffee mixed with cloves for the sanitary effects within their corporeal aspects; next, the conversation did shine, like the big neon glitter above.

TANYA
So, Mr. Uncle--why are you hunting Bigfoot?

UNCLE
Hell, just for the kicks, and to be famous, like William Blake wanted.  The poet got it in the end, after dying a penniless old man considered a crank.

TANYA
You sound kinda on the crank spectrum.

UNCLE
Thanks.  And hell, I'm a Yankee, but I understand the metaphysics of Uncle Jesse and them Duke boys.

TANYA
Always liked Boss Hog myself.  He dressed like Faulkner and Twain; plus, Colonel Sanders.  

MUTT
I could really go for some chicken.

TANYA
Grilled or crispy?

MUTT
I don't have the digestive tract of a coyote, so I'd go with grilled, and some salt, pepper, and turmeric.

TANYA
Damn dude--that sounds nasty.  Need mine fried--deep fried.

UNCLE
How would you like your Hairy Man cooked?

TANYA
Ain't hunting him to eat him old timer.  Just want him to talk, and have him tell me, at least, the fundamentals of Earthly existence.

   Mutt pondered his crappy, bizarre life.  But it was Holy Saturday, and Jesus LIGHTS it ALL up.